Arctic Winds
by EmoPalmtree
Summary: A new nation has appeared: small, shy Arctic. Now who will care for the new fledgling nation, or better yet: who'll save him from his potential caretaker? Russia x OC, slight Canada x OC, yaoi. Rating may increase.
1. A New Nation

Well, first fanfiction and it's a yaoi. You've been warned. Don't like? Don't read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC. Thank you and enjoy.

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><p>The air was cold, the wind that whipped around the icy tundra doing nothing to better the chilly atmosphere. If one looked in any direction they would only see long expanses of white; hills of ice and snow carving through the area to give it depth and interest, but not a single splash of color to be found. The crew on the boat that anchored at the edge of the ice gazed at this frozen environment with dread. "Captain, what do you expect us to find here? It's the <em>Arctic<em>! It's just a chunk of frozen land!" A few shouts of agreement sounded out from the crew.

"Something is different. I can feel it." The man bundled within the large furry coat, that was necessary for such a venture, did not take his gaze off the wasteland. He could feel it deep within his bones; there was another life here. Another nation to be precise. "No. We need to press forward. If it will make you feel more comfortable I'll go alone and scout." He smiled softly at his crew to only reinforce his statement.

The crew knew the man could fend for himself despite his dainty appearance and soft voice, what with him being a nation and all. The world's second biggest nation! "I…I suppose…" The first mate spoke somewhat hesitantly. The nation's boss would surely have their heads if anything happened to the personification that was Canada, so a certain degree of hesitance was of course to be expected.

Canada smiled, slowly pulling up the mask up to warm his already cold face.

"I'll be back soon."

He shivered violently, wrapping his bare arms around himself in some attempt to gather warmth to his frozen skin. It didn't seem to help much. Large, bright eyes looked around frantically, searching for some sort of clue as to his current situation. Nothing. Nothing but white. He already knew that he hated the color, or lack thereof. Pale lips parted in some attempt to make a sound, but the winter wind made him shut his lips tightly together once again as the cold temperature raced down his throat with the newfound opportunity. If it was possible, his body temperature only dropped lower.

It was all so confusing. He woke to cold; alone and without any knowledge of his predicament. _How did I get here…?_ He wondered, holding himself closer without any further results. Slowly he crumbled to his side, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hiding his face within his arms. The cold permeated his thoughts and senses; he felt the snow drift to the ground, he felt icy water sloshing beneath the frozen surface of the land…the animals, people too, were felt trudging across the great expanse, far off somewhere…he felt it all at once.

"Hello?" He perked slightly at a sound of a voice. It was so soft it was barely heard above the wild wind that raced down the landscape. He would have thought it to have been a trick of cold seeping into his bones and muddling his thoughts had he not heard the voice again: only closer.

"_Oh, **Mon** **Dieu**_!" Came the soft exclamation, directly to the pale boy's side. The boy slowly looked up with half-lidded eyes. Color…little peaks of a beautiful golden yellow was above him, looking so much like the sun he subconsciously knew was hidden behind grey winter clouds. The man above him gazed down at him with appalled concern from behind the thick winter goggles and glasses behind those. It irked the boy slightly to be unable to decipher the color of his eyes. He wanted to see more of that color. _Anything_ but white! "You must be freezing!" The strange new man scurried to pull a coat and blanket from a pack, gently pulling the boy up to wrap the material around his shoulders.

The boy looked up at him with a quiet curiosity, pulling the newfound warmth closer around himself, reveling in the feeling of something other than body-numbing cold. Canada tried not to stare at the new fledgling nation, but it was difficult with the boy staring at him with those bright, blue-green eyes. The splash of color in his countenance was shocking in comparison with his pale skin and pure white hair; he had almost didn't notice the boy amongst the snow and ice until he had shifted to a fetal position.

"Arctic…?" Canada slowly knelt down beside the boy, careful not to make too many sudden movements. "Would you like to go somewhere warmer?"

His eyes lit up, nodding frantically. "W-warm!" The boy's voice was soft and extremely raspy from cold, but held eagerness in tone.

The blonde nation smiled softly, gently patting the shaggy mop of white hair with a gloved hand. "You'll need a human name too…" Canada looked contemplative for a moment, mulling over the important decision in front of him. "Avery." He glanced back down, searching for a signal of approval from the small boy, which he received in the form of a small smile. "It's a popular one back home…French too, so Papa will like it I'm sure! Do you like it?"

"A-Avery!" The boy responded with enthusiasm, despite the stammering caused by the lingering cold. He leaned into the Canadian's warmth, "I-I like it!"

"Oh good!" Canada laughed softly, putting an arm around the young nation. Arctic was such a large nation as a whole, but a few older nations had already laid claims to the more inhabitable parts of the Arctic. His own brother, America, Denmark, Norway and he himself – Canada were those who had done so…but it wasn't these countries that worried him. Sure his brother might go on about some ridiculous notion about Manifest Destiny for a while, but in the end the cold would probably get to him and he'd forget about expanding his borders, and Denmark and Norway didn't worry him much (Canada himself just wished to help the poor, confused, fledgling nation).

Russia. Ivan Braginski. That was who he was concerned about.

Canada was certainly glad that it was he, and not Russia that had sensed the new nation's appearance first. Now…he would do what he could to keep the small boy safe for as long as possible. "Let me take you home Avery. Somewhere where it's lovely and warm."

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><p>"Matthieu~! <strong><em>Mon Cher<em>**~!" The voice was unmistakable as its owner burst through the front door of the Canadian's home, making the man jump in slight surprise, even from the kitchen. "Ah, whenever I come over it smells like pancakes! What happened to the beautiful French cuisine I taught you, **_mon_ _petite_**Matthieu? Like crepes!" France leaned against the arched opening to the kitchen, pouting softly at his former colony.

Matthew sighed softly, doing his best to focus on the task of getting the pancake in the pan to a perfect golden brown. "Crepes take a lot of preparation…and Avery likes pancakes, as does Kumajima." Once he was satisfied with the doneness of his creation, he plated the last of the pancakes and thoroughly drenched the three plates he had made with a healthy dose of maple syrup. The sight made Francis's pout deepen slightly. "Avery!" The Canadian called out (which was the equivalent of a normal person's voice). "Breakfast is ready!"

"O-okay!" Hurried footsteps came from the stairs of the porch and it wasn't long before a familiar mop of colorless locks entered the room via the back door. "Papa, the flowers are so –" Avery stopped upon seeing the older blonde in the room, freezing to the spot immediately.

"My, my, _**mon** **belle**_ Avery…you've grown since I last saw you~" He cooed happily, taking a steps towards the smaller male. Immediately the boy scurried behind Matthew, clinging tightly to the fabric of his jacket and burying his face in his back. "Huh? What did I say?" The Frenchman blinked in surprise. How could he, the nation of Love, have his charms resisted and even REJECTED by anyone?

Matthew smiled softly, glancing behind at the painfully-shy boy for a moment before addressing his flabbergasted Papa. "He's just not used to anyone but me and Kumaki. Don't worry Papa; it's not just you…though you're the only one who has met him." He couldn't help but sigh. He'd been lucky so far; the other nations' forgetfulness of his existence finally coming in handy for something. But he wasn't naïve. It was only a matter of time before someone found out, and then he might get in trouble. The thought suddenly hit, sending a wave a panic through him. What if he accidently started a war with Russia because of it?

"Matthieu? Are you alright **_mon_ _cher_**…? You spaced out there for a moment." Francis looked at him in concern.

"Y-yeah…I was just thinking…" He bit his lip gently, kneading it between his teeth unconsciously as he brought the plates over to the table; Avery still clinging to his back in an attempt to hide his face from France. "Go ahead and eat Avery. I'll take Francis out, okay…?" It took a moment before the tell-tale nod felt against his back occurred and the small boy pulled away slowly in order to take his seat. It wasn't until a certain polar bear climbed up into an empty chair and began to eat that the boy relaxed and commenced with his own meal. While he was distracted Matthew motioned for Francis to join him in the nearby living room.

"I'm worried." He mumbled softly, fetching the wine he knew Francis loved from a cabinet. "It has been three years, and Avery has grown a bit, but it's only a matter of time before one of the other countries takes notice!"

"Certainly not your brother." France chuckled lightly, taking the wine glass with a thankful nod. "**_Mon cher Amérique_ **is quite the oblivious one, **_non_**~?"

"Yes…but Alfred is not who I'm scared about." He mumbled softly, staring down at the red liquid in his glass. "Finland, Greenland, Iceland and Alaska are definitely not part of Arctic because they've been claimed already…but Russia and I have the greatest portions of claim within his nation. So far I've not heard of anyone even aware of Avery's existence, but if it's found out that I took him…" The blonde held his head low, groaning softly to himself. "All hell could break loose…"

France laid a gentle hand on his back, "Ah mon cher, I am sure you are only doing your best! **_Il semble très friands de vous aussi_**. " He slowly leaned back in his seat, smiling up at the ceiling with an expression of nostalgia. "It reminds me of when you were just **_mon enfant_**."

Canada expression softened slightly, smiling over at his former caretaker, "That's really sweet to sa –" The blonde squeaked, standing quickly at the playful squeeze France had given his ass.

"But you certainly aren't a **_bébé_** any longer~" He chuckled, giving Matthew a saucy smirk. "Such a nice firm ass you have **_mon cher_**~" He couldn't help but delight in the rouge that spread across the younger's face; a signal that the Frenchman's charms certainly were not lost. Nobody could resist~

"Papa…?" The quiet voice broke the atmosphere, both of the blondes turning their attention to the small boy hiding in the doorway. "K-Kumajiro said there's a tall man coming towards the house. C-can I still go play outside?"

"N-non! Go to your room, okay Avery?" Matthew's eyes widened, quickly moving to usher the small boy towards the stairs. "Go on, hurry! And don't make a sound."

"Y-yes Papa." He mumbled, hurrying up to his room.

"_**C-Chit**!_" Canada swore as he hurried back to the living room to appear as if nothing was amiss, but barely got half-way back before a violent pounding started against the front door.

"Matvey." The thick Russian accent was unmistakable and never failed to send shivers down the spines of the nations that heard it. The silver knob turned rapidly, a precursor to the door slamming open and creating a large crack in the wall as it violently collided with it. The tall form of Russia's personification stood in the doorway with that ever-present childish smile on his face. "Ah, comrade Matvey and comrade Francis. I believe we have some things to discuss, **_da_**?"

"I-I'm not sure what you mean…" Matthew mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the intimidating man desperately.

"No? Perhaps I am not being clear…" He smiled innocently as he stepped towards the nations slowly. "You are hiding something here, da? If you still do not understand I will be more specific." Both Matthew and Francis did not miss the threatening nature of the water pipe that Russia swung loosely at his side as he walked. "It's come to my attention that there's a new little nation around. One that is part of Mother Russia~"

"I-I haven't heard anything about that…um…I…" Matthew did his best to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. He was currently **LYING** to **RUSSIA**! Blatantly doing it too!

"Oh? How disappointing." Ivan leaned down, grabbing Matthew's chin with his free hand. "I am certain that he is here right now. Isn't that right comrade?" He smiled wider at the obvious shaking of the blonde's body. "_**Da**_, I am right~"

"H-he is as much mine as yours." France bit his lip to keep from further showing his obvious discomfort with the situation. "W-we own very equal claims in the Arctic."

"Really?" The Russian's smile faltered slightly. "Arctic is still part of Mother Russia. It is only fair that I see what is mine."

No matter how inwardly upset Canada was with the situation, he certainly didn't want to start a war. He bit his lip in brief contemplation of how best to assess the state of affairs, quickly coming up empty with anything that didn't involve compliance. "F-fine…" he pulled his chin from the leather-bound grip of the Russian, heading towards the stairs. "Follow me."

"_**Da**_!" That childish expression was once again back as he followed the smaller man. "I suggest comrade Francis leave when matters don't concern him~" The underlying tone was undoubtedly threatening. Despite this, Francis looked somewhat hesitant.

"It's fine Papa…"

France frowned softly, slowly headed for the doorway. "I am just a phone-call away _**mon** **cher**_. Don't hesitate to call." He gave Ivan a glare before hurrying to safety.

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><p>Avery sat on the bed, hugging Kumajiro close to his chest. He always loved the small polar bear; he was soft, cuddly, and reminded him of home. As much as he disliked the deathly cold environment and the lack of color, it was still his country. He could feel the Ice shifting, his people migrating across the barren landscape and the sloshing of the sea against his borders. He still loved his people dearly, even if they were low in amount and still very behind the modern world. All the same…<p>

"Arctic?" The door opened slowly to reveal his caretaker, eliciting a small smile from the boy.

"Papa! Can I go play outside now?" He asked softly, holding Kuma closer to his chest.

"Actually…I would like you to meet someone first, alright?" Matthew swallowed hard, moving out of the way to let his guest's giant form past him and into the room. Immediately the boy let go of the polar bear and slid off the bed to hide behind it, pulling the hood of his fur-inlaid jacket over his head. Ivan blinked, glancing at Matthew with the silent question of 'what just happened?. "He is very shy…"

Russia just laughed. "To be expected if the caretaker is just as timid." He ignored the other nation's frown, slowly walking around the bed to where the cowering boy was visible. "Hello **_malyutka_**~" Ivan spoke softly, as if he were speaking to a cornered rabbit about to bolt. His smile widened at the small shudder that rippled through the small nation, but there was no indication that he was planning on running: progress already. "Stand up so I can get a look at you, _**da**_?" It was a demand, not a request.

Avery weighed his options. It was obvious his Papa was nervous around the tall man, which only heightened the young boy's natural anxiety. Shakily, Arctic stood, letting his hood fall back to reveal his full face. Ivan did not let the surprise he felt make it into his expression. _His eyes are the color of spring…_Those bright eyes looked anywhere but Ivan's form, shifting from spot to spot on the wooden floor beneath him. His pale cheeks and nose seemed to have a natural flush to them; standing out further due to the white locks that framed a thin face. By all accounts, the boy was certainly beautiful.

Ivan slowly smiled, "You will make a lovely addition to Mother Russia~!"

The boy looked up in slight panic, glancing at Matthew questioningly. "Now Russia, I-I never said he was yours!" Canada frowned, doing his best to appear assertive. That quickly died down with a threatening stare from Russia in addition to his ever-present smile. _God, that combination is creepy!_ "Wh-what I mean is that this needs to be settled by more than just us! Denmark and Norway also have a claim in some of Arctic's domain…w-we should just bring it up at a later date…"

Ivan just smiled, "The next G8 meeting, **_da_**? It's at the end of the week. Bring little Arctic along…but because you've kept his existence from me, he will stay by my side at the meeting." Matthew, certainly in no room to refuse the demand, kept grudging silent. "Good~" He turned his attention back to the boy before him. "Come here Arctic."

The boy was obviously reluctant as he slowly closed the gap between them, opting to stare down at the ground rather than up at the tall Russian before him. He physically flinched as two very large hands settled themselves on his shoulders. Even if Ivan wasn't squeezing, the new weight on his delicate frame made the small nation whimper quietly. "P-papa…" Tears prickled the edges of his eyes as he began to shake.

"Russia, don't hurt him!" Canada stepped forward, biting his lip nervously.

Violet eyes flashed at the blonde. "I've done nothing. Now why don't you just go away now, _**da**_-" The threatening aura that seemed to ooze from the taller man finally reduced Arctic to tears. Russia gazed down at the sobbing child in surprise. He hadn't even _tried_ to intimidate him…

With the giant's hands sliding off his shoulders, Avery bolted immediately to Canada's side, burying his tear-soaked face in the familiar red hoodie. His caretaker gently encased him within his arms, stroking his pale locks comfortingly as the small frame shook in his embrace. Matthew glared at the bewildered Russian. "Get out…please. This is too much for him to take in at once."

Canada was almost just as scared as Arctic at this point; he was silently praying that the Ivan wouldn't fly off the handle, kill him, and take the boy. War or not, Russia wasn't in the habit of giving up something that he wanted easily –

"…_**da**_."

It took a moment for the word to process. God was silently thanked over and over that the Russian hadn't chosen to reduce him to a bloodied heap on the floor. Ivan slowly walked towards the two, fitting his large frame past them to make it through the bedroom doorway. He paused, looking down at the small boy for a brief moment. "I still expect to see little Arctic at the meeting. I suggest not going back on your word…or lack thereof, _**da**_?" He smiled brightly. "**_Do svidaniya_**…"

With that the large nation left. Matthew slowly let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding in, sinking to the ground with his small colony in his arms. "_**Mon Dieu**_…" What had he just gotten into?

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><p>Translations:<p>

Mon Dieu (French): My God

Cher (French): dear

Petite (French): little

Belle (French): beautiful

Amérique (French): America

Non (French): no

il sembletrès friands devous aussi (French): He seems very fond of you too.

enfant/bébé (French): baby or infant

Chit (Canadian slang): Shit

Da (Russian): yes

malyutka (Russian) : little one

Do svidaniya (Russian): Goodbye

I'm going off google translate sooooo...yeah. Don't slam me for the languages, I'm doing my best. As for the story, it's my first fanfiction. I appreciate comments, but please keep them as kind as you can. Constructive criticism welcome.


	2. Interesting Introductions

Chapter 2 for everyone. I was honestly surprised that people found this to be decent, so I must be doing something well! XD

Disclaimer again: I own nothing but my OC.

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><p>"N-now, there's no need to be frightened! You'll do fine. J-just be confident and be prepared for a lot of people in one room! It'll be more than you're used to…" Canada spoke rather fast as he rushed around the room to gather the materials he needed for the meeting. Arctic watched silently from the couch, his bright eyes never leaving the frantic movements of his caretaker. "Oh! And if you see someone that looks like me, that's just my brother Alfred…<em>please<em> don't go home with him! We look similar but he's very loud and you won't like his house I promise!"

"P-papa…"

"Francis will be there too, so don't be too scared of him. He won't do anything because you're still young…at least…I hope he won't…you know what, just avoid him altogether, alright? England is probably the most normal of the family, so if you get separated from me go to him…he'll definitely keep France off of you if anything…" Canada bit his lip nervously. His family was messed up, wasn't it? Maybe he should just pretend he forgot Arctic at home? Or maybe Russia would forget Canada was even at the meeting!

"Papa."

"But DON'T eat the scones! If England offers you food, don't eat it! Kumaro ate some once and was sick for a month and I don't want that to happen with you!"

"_Papa_!"

Canada stopped amidst gathering a folder full of documents to stare at the boy. He had never heard him raise his voice before…it was quite something. "I-I'm sorry Avery, did you need to say something?"

"Y-you're making me more nervous…" The boy shifted in his seat as if to affirm his discomfort. He was bright and very observant for his young age as a nation but it was a downfall in this case with a caretaker like Canada; for it was far from difficult to pick up on his elder's anxiety. As a result this only heightened the natural apprehension instilled within him.

"I'm sorry." The blonde straightened, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a slow delay. "We can both get through this, eh?" A small, natural smile managed to find its way onto its features; in an attempt to comfort Avery as well as to calm his own nerves.

"R-right!" The boy slid off the couch, running over to hug the taller man around the waist. "Can I bring Kumajiro though…? I'd feel better if I could hold him!"

How could Canada say no to that hopeful and wholly adorable expression? He smiled, patting the boy on the head gently, "Of course. Wouldn't you like that Kumataki?" Glancing back at the polar bear that was currently lounging on the couch, the only indication he had been heard was a twitch of its paw. "Kumaka?"

The small nation giggled, a sound that resembled the tinkling of wind chimes, as he ran over to the bear, pouncing on its back playfully to rouse it from its doze. "Silly Papa! His name is Kumajiro!"

Matthew cocked his head slightly, "Um…Kumanna, right?"

Kumajiro blinked his beady eyes at the blonde, not seeming to mind the tiny nation nuzzling into his fur on top of him. "Who?"

"I'm Canada…"

The polar bear seemed to shrug, returning to his attempt to sleep. Avery cuddled next to the bear, burying his face within the soft, white fur of the beast. "Kuma knows who I am, right..?"

"Arctic." He responded immediately, turning his head so his wet nose brushed against pale skin – eliciting a soft giggle from the boy. "Avery."

Canada looked away in utter depression. _It would figure…he's been with me for how many years, but Avery's been here three and Kumajama remembers him? _ "But I know who Papa is…" The quiet voice pulled Canada from his thoughts and bringing his attention back to the tangle of white on the couch. "You're Canada…a-and the best Papa in the world! Ah-! Papa? A-are you okay..?" Canada had quickly sat beside him and pulled him tightly into an embrace.

"I-I'm fine…I'm great a-actually…" The blonde had to consciously force the tears down. Someone noticed him. Someone thought he was 'the best'! _Me…and not Alfred. For once._ He thought, pulling his small little nation closer.

"Okay…" Arctic didn't sound convinced, but he nuzzled into the warm embrace of his caretaker anyway. "_Je t'aime_ papa…" he mumbled shyly.

The tears definitely decided to slip out after the comment; barely concealed by Canada hiding his face within the soft white mop of hair of the boy's head. He held him tightly in an almost desperate manner. "_Moi aussi, je t'aime_." He whispered into his tresses, giving the scalp a chaste kiss also. All thoughts of the meeting and the apprehensions of Russia disappeared for the moment.

It was a good day.

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><p>It was a good day. He didn't have a hangover, he had successfully scared the living daylights out of Latvia as he entered the conference room that morning (reducing the poor country to little more than a trembling mess), and the nervous look that he received from Canada as he arrived made him fully aware that the nation had not forgotten what they'd discussed previously. Da, it was a great day.<p>

"Good morning Canada." The Russian greeted with his signature smile plastered on his face. He was only greeted with a small glare as the Canadian took his seat. Oh, he could tell this was going to be such a fun experience…not to mention that he would (not potentially, mind you, he would) receive a lovely addition to Mother Russia by the end of this meeting.

"Everyone sit down!" The thickly-accented voice of Germany boomed through the room, immediately gaining everyone's attention. "Let's officially call this meeting to order!"

"Heeeeeey! This is my house, why am I not leading this meeting?" America whined, halting his current conquest of the Big Mac in his hand to pipe in. The latest G8 meeting had been scheduled to be at America's house (solely for the reason that it was on the schedule and less for the reason the countries wanted to be there), and was being hosted in Chicago, Illinois rather than in America's capital. This was the first time that Alfred's boss had insisted that a city other than Washington be the site for the meeting; odd, yes; unwise, perhaps. Either way Alfred thought very little of the reasoning behind his boss's decision (he himself was happy that he could get some awesome deep-dish at the lunchtime break), but he still was within his borders! He should be the Hero and step up to lead these super important meetings!

"Because you git, you have the attention span and brain capacity of a squirrel." England rolled his eyes.

Alfred pouted, taking another bite of his precious hamburger. "It's the hero's turn to take the presidency role! It started at the beginning of the year!"

"And exactly how many of the other meeting have you planned this year like you were supposed to? Hmm? NONE!" England bopped him on the head, disrupting him mid-bite. "Either Germany or I usually get stuck picking up the slack. Germany did most of the work, so he's the conductor this time around! Deal with it." The 'gentleman' promptly ignored the childish sticking-out-of-the-tongue America responded with; mostly because food still remained on it…

"Exactly. Now, silence!" Germany snapped, banging his hand down on the table. "I'm announcing this 38th annual G8 meeting, with the addition of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization joining us in the proceedings –" The twenty-two other countries that, in addition to six current G8 members, made up NATO were also seated around the large table in America's specially-made conference room. " – officially brought to order. Now, as usual we have many broad topics of which we can discuss, but for now if there are any specific issues that merit global importance I would ask that those issues be brought up first. As always, a hand must be raised in order to keep structure when you want to speak, and five minutes to present your issue will be given. No more, no less, unless a discussion is sparked." Germany leaned forward slightly, his icy eyes narrowing as he looked at each country. "All is understood…? Good."

Italy was the first to raise a hand, smiling in his signature, stupid manner. Germany rubbed his temples as he motioned the okay for Italy to speak. "So…when is lunch? I wanna get pasta, ve~!"

"Dude, I know a great place for pasta and pizza!" America piped in.

"We JUST started! NO talk of lunch yet!" The room quieted.

"I've got an…issue, as you say, da." Russia's voice sent a shockwave through the whole room; the Baltics shrunk further into their seats, America shouted something about Russia being a 'commie bastard, who didn't deserve to have his issue fixed' which led to England having to remind him that Russia was no longer Communist with a sharp shwap to the head, Germany opened his mouth to speak only to decide that it wasn't worth repeating the raising-your-hand rule to Russia of all people, and Canada desperately wished that he was invisible to everyone _including_ Russia.

The intimidating man slowly stood, violet eyes flashing across the table to Canada. "There's a new nation that has appeared." Silence, then immediately conversation was sparked amidst the many countries present. A new nation hadn't appeared in quite a while after all…

France's eyes widened, shooting Canada a worried glance. What was Russia thinking? _This shouldn't be decided here.._

"What?" England frowned. "Where…? And how is it that no one else has sensed it?" Murmurs of agreement followed.

Russia just smiled. "Ask little Matvey. He is taking care of the little nation~"

"…who?"

Canada felt a vein twitch slightly at the familiar question even as he slowly stood up in his seat, struggling to keep the cold gaze of his Western Neighbor. He didn't miss the triumphant sparkle held in their violet depths. _Bastard_… "Me. Canada. I'm the one who found the newest nation up in the Arctic."

"Mattie?" America leaned forward in his seat in order to see his brother, blinking in surprise. "Dude! You got a colony?"

"I-I have some claim in Arctic…" Canada mumbled, breaking eye contact with Ivan in favor of looking down at the patterns in the table.

Russia's smile widened, "Da. So do I…I don't think that anyone else holds a large portion." Norway and Denmark avoided all eye contact. They were no fools; they wanted nothing, absolutely NOTHING to do with land that Russia had his eyes on. Nothing in that barren wasteland of a country could be worth starting a war over.

Germany cleared his throat, frowning. "If that's true, then territory should be shared, or at least presented here since the issue has been brought up…and it very well might turn into a global issue if not addressed immediately." Throughout history the issue of territory disputes had been solved by war or some sort of pact between the clashing countries. In the case of Russia however…it seemed extremely unlikely that a compromise could be reached with the country that was convinced everyone would eventually "become one" with Mother Russia.

"Hey, my bro got it first! Finders, keepers!" America shot up in his seat. "That commie bastard doesn't deserve anything!"

"I don't think this matter concerns you Amerika." Russia's eyes narrowed despite the sweeter pitch of his voice, "Why don't you butt out, da?"

"Why you!" If not for England and France's tight grip on the American, Alfred very well might have launched himself over the table to strangle the man.

"S-stop!" Canada bit his lip, frowning at his twin. "Th-the last thing we need is another World War starting because of this…I'll go get him." He slowly headed for the door, "I think he's prepared for this…" _Or as prepared as he'll ever be._

* * *

><p>He was so nervous! The small boy shook slightly as he sat in a large lounge chair in a hallway, staying exactly where Canada had told him to. If he hadn't been holding Kumajiro in his arms he very well might have burst into tears already! Avery bit his lip, holding the polar bear closer to his chest and nuzzling his face into the familiar fur. "<em>N-Nanjii…"<em> He mumbled to himself; one of the many languages of his people slipping past his tongue with an ease he himself didn't realize he had. _My home… _the thought made him curl even more on himself, pulling his hood over his head in some attempt to feel comfort. In his home he wouldn't have had to deal with all these new people.

Kumajiro pawed gently at Avery's chest, nudging his chin with his snout to get some sort of attention. "No crying…" The bear seemed to lightly scold him. The young nation sniffed softly.

"S-sorry…"

"Avery?" The boy looked up at his caretaker, doing his best to blink away the tears. "Hey… _vous allez bien_?" Matthew gently touched his cheek, wiping a stray droplet of salt water with his thumb.

"_O-Oui."_ He mumbled, leaning into the comforting touch. "D-do we have to go now?"

"We do…just hold onto Kumakatchi or onto my hand and everything will be alright. I promise." He _hoped_. _Mon Dieu,_ he hoped… Matthew helped his little boy to his feet, smiling as he watched him hold Kumajiro tightly in his arms, struggling slightly in the attempt just because of the bear's size. "Lets go."

Avery timidly followed the tall blonde, hesitating for a moment as the large doors parted to reveal an even larger room full of people. His eyes widened. _So many people._ "P-papa…" He whined softly, hurrying over to his side, hiding his face into the polar bear's fur in a frightened panic. They were all staring at him!

Matthew put a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to reassure the trembling child. "This is Arctic. He's been living with me for a few years now…" He glared over at the towering of Ivan who was slowly walking towards them. "And he wants to stay with me." It was more of a mumble, but Avery heard and nodded his head.

"I'm afraid that doesn't matter comrade. Come here little Arctic. You're going to sit with me for today." Russia smiled sweetly, offering a gloved hand towards him. Avery looked up at Canada with a silent plea of 'don't make me go', but from the apologetic look he received, he didn't have much of a choice. As Kuma slipped out of his hold, the boy hesitantly grabbed the Russian's hand. Large fingers enveloped his whole hand, slowly pulling him back over to his seat. For a second he was mesmerized by an idea; it would only take the man the effort of one squeeze and his hand could be crushed…what power.

A cute little squeak slipped out as he was hoisted into the large lap of the Russian, letting him see the entire span of the table with relative ease. Everyone was staring at him like he was a rare species on display. True, no one else along the table looked anything like him; his hair was as white as fresh snow, and his skin was not to many shades off from the same color, a dainty flush spread across his cheeks and nose, and the only other color to his countenance was the brilliant blue-green eyes beneath white lashes. He was the center of attention…and he didn't like it one bit.

"S-staring…" the boy mumbled to himself, fidgeting in Russia's lap. The large man wrapped his arms around his waist like a seatbelt, holding him loosely against his chest.

"He doesn't like you commie!" America glared daggers, "Let him go and be with Mattie! He obviously would be better off with him!"

"I agree with _Amérique_." France frowned softly, glaring over at him. "Young Arctic is obviously uncomfortable with the situation."

It was like a nightmare; the noise started back up as America and France began to argue with Russia while Germany was still trying to retain some sort of order within the room (and failing miserably). England and Canada amidst the chaos were attempting to talk reason into their angry, outspoken relatives and everyone else looked between the fight and the object of it with either apprehension or interest. It was most likely interest considering how dull a peaceful meeting would normally be.

Avery's bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as he clasped his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out the clamor of angry shouts and insults. It was too much at once; the loud noises, the stares, and now he was being forced away from the only familiar person he knew. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He needed comfort…he needed his Papa… Avery suddenly turned into Russia's chest, burying his face in the fabric of the coat. "I-I wanna g-go home…m-make everyone go away…" His sobs were stifled by the coat, but Ivan was keen to hear his muddled words nonetheless.

Russia slowly smiled, a smirk hidden within the sweetness, "Da. I'll take you home soon _malyutka_. Be patient." He rubbed his back slowly; his childish grin directed at those he had been verbally battling with only moments before. "I believe we have a meeting to continue, da?"

Canada felt a feral growl build up in his throat. Avery was practically his son and the one person in the world that acknowledged him and now that threatening bully of a nation was trying to take him away? He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed in front of him as Germany resumed the meeting. He glowered at Russia as the man stroked Avery's hair in a gentle fashion; he wasn't fooled by the action. There was no doubt that the way he held the small boy that Russia considered Arctic's regions his. _No way in hell._

Violet eyes met violet. Smirking lips matched grimacing.

An unofficial, silent declaration of war.

* * *

><p>Translations:<p>

malyutka (Ruissian): little one

Je t'aime (French): I love you

Moi assi, je t'aime (French): I love you too

Nanjii (Inkutitut): I am frightened

Vous allez bien? (French): Are you alright?

Oui (French): Yes

Mon Dieu (French): My God

Amérique (French) : America

The Inkutitut language is one of the Eskimo languages spoken in certain parts of the Arctic. I'm not familiar with it, so I'm relying off internet sources. UGH. Maybe I should just go learn every language in the freaking world and then writing would be so much easier! Ah, well...

Review make my day~


	3. Tense Negotiations

**A/N: I do NOT own Hetalia. If I did I have a feeling it would be much darker~**

* * *

><p>"We're getting nowhere…let's break for an hour." Germany sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in exasperation.<p>

"Ve~ Germany, lets go get pasta~!" Italy grabbed his friend's sleeve, tugging on it repeatedly until the tall German had no choice but to indulge the brunette. Slowly countries got up from their seats, shuffling out of the conference room towards the promise of food and relief from the thick fog of rigidity that hung in the room. All that remained in their seats were England, France, America, Canada and Russia.

"Now Mattie, tell us what the hell is going on! Why is that evil Russian trying to take over the Arctic? I own some of it – uh, him – too!" Alfred frowned, slamming his hands down on the table's surface in front of him to come off somewhat intimidating as he glared towards Russia.

"Porhaps you should shut that big mouth of yours, da, Amerika? Your vining voice is upsetting my appetite." Ivan's smile was playful, but even so those violet orbs drifted towards the water pipe that lay propped against his seat as quite malicious ideas ran through his head. He had been itching to connect it with something lately…the Baltics weren't at his house any longer and there were no wars to vent his suppressed emotions on as he was lacking a proper target. But with the current situation he was always willing to spark some warmth into those old Cold War feelings._ Just say another word Amerika…I dare you…_

Matthew swore he spotted a vein pop in his brother's forehead, "Why you –!"

"Shut up you git." England frowned, pushing the enraged nation back down in his seat. "This is hardly the time for this! We have a very serious issue at hand –!"

"One that does not concern you or Amerika." Ivan chimed in mid-sentence, retaining that same damn smile with practiced ease. "So keep your disgusting Vestern vays to yourself and stay out of business that isn't your own, da?"

Oh, things were definitely getting out of hand…it was England's turn for a vein to pop out of his forehead. He rose quickly, obvious fury claiming his features, "Why you bugger –!"

"**E-Enough**!" All nations looked at the blonde in surprise. Never had they heard Canada raise his voice in such a manner and all with an angry expression gracing his face. Matthew glared at the entire lot, panting slightly from the exertion it took to raise his voice in volume so much in the first place. "I-I've had just about enough of your fighting! Now, let's all start acting like adults instead of like we're all half a century old, and have a civilized conversation for once!" The room fell silent, all eyes on the Canadian for once. While the feeling of being noticed was quite unnerving for the man, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction one being able to command the attention of some of the world's most powerful nations with only a few words. But like all good feelings, the sensation was short lived when the realization of what needed to be done crept into the forefront of his mind. "S-so…I need to discuss this issue with Russia. Alone…"

It was quiet for a moment.

"NO WAY IN HELL!" America jumped back up to his feet, growling venomously. "You? **Alone** with that freaking Commie bastard? I'm not letting my little bro be with that creeper as long as I'm here! I mean, what if he tries to 'make you one with Russia' or something sick like that? Or worse – he'll try to make you a Commie too! Oh my God, I couldn't let that happen –"

"Will you SHUT UP Alfred?" Matthew couldn't take this anymore. No one had even noticed Arctic when he first emerged and now suddenly everyone was vying for a say in a budding nation's fate? As Russia stated: it was none of their concern. Funny…something rational coming from Ivan; or rather it would have been amusing if not for the circumstances. Matthew glared over the rim of his glasses towards his 'twin', trying oh so hard to speak in a manner that his thick-headed counterpart would understand and respect his instructions. "I'm over one hundred and forty years old. I think I can protect myself just fine! Now…please, just get out."

Alfred did not appear pleased as he glanced between his brother and his old enemy; the cogs in his head obviously turning with silent contemplation. Finally he grabbed his deposited suit jacket from off his chair and headed for the conference room doors. "Call if you need help. Ya know the hero is always here for you Mattie."

Matthew sighed softly as his lips curled up into a small smile. "I know Alfred." That was his brother. Always the pig-headed one, but at the same time he had his moments of cognition. Thank God.

"Well…I can't let America go off and be the mature one. It would just ruin all sense in the world!" England stood, still frowning towards the large Russian across the table. "Do call if you need our aid."

"Take Arctic with you please…"

The small boy lifted his head up from within the cozy confines of Russia's coat at the sound of his name. His eyes were lightly red and puffed from his small fit of tears earlier, and he sniffed quietly to combat his body's natural reaction of kicking his nasal senses into overdrive as a result. He had buried himself further into the giant's embrace when the loud blonde had started yelling nonsense and even when his own caretaker had raised his voice to be heard – certainly the whole world was not so…loud? At least, he hoped. Avery wiped his eyes gently on the sleeve of his coat, peeking over it at the trio of retreating blondes and Canada at the opposite side of the table.

"…alright. Russia, let the lad go." England stopped at the open door, looking back at both Northern nations expectantly.

The man's ever-present smile did not falter. "Don't run off vith him now, or I might get angry~" Russia giggled at the noticeable shudder that ran through the Englishman, but nonetheless slowly loosened his grip around the boy's waist. Leaning forward, Ivan let his lips brush against the sensitive peak of the boy's ear, whispering low, "_Я отвезу тебя домой_…" Though Arctic did not understand the word's meaning, he shivered slightly due to the manner of their delivery; something about those guttural syllables was laced with the deep flavor of foreboding.

The budding nation looked at the ashen blonde with a confused expression before looking back at his primary caretaker for affirmation that he was allowed to move. Matthew forced a reassuring smile, nodding. "Go ahead and stay with Arthur over there right now, okay Avery? Ivan and I just need to chat for a little while. Go eat, and I'll be back with you in a little while."

"O-Okay Papa…" Avery mumbled quietly as he carefully hopped off Ivan's large lap in order to hurry towards the side of an awaiting England. A small hand grabbed at a larger one.

~.~.~

Tense was an understatement to describe such an atmosphere. The strained silence was so thick that the pressure seemed to weigh upon the room's occupants in a physical manner – of course one of said occupants wore the façade of a smiling schoolboy and took such stress in stride, while the other barely contained Latvia-esque shudders under the weight of such anxiety (the intense gaze of a certain Russian certainly did not improve the overall atmosphere either). Canada was almost convinced that his knack for falling invisible had kicked in (and Ivan was simply staring at the wall in thought) until the larger man leaned forward; his smile widening to a childish grin.

"You vanted to speak, did you not, comrade?"

"Y-yes…" Matthew cleared his throat, willing himself to meet the man's violet orbs with his own pair. "Listen…our country's relations are very good, I mean, just last year we held the business summit up in Ottawa! Y-you remember, right?"

"Da."

"Oh, good! And, it's been almost thirty-five years since we started cooperating in the Arctic region…we're the two major powers working to help in that area and…and…I really don't see a reason why we should be arguing so venomously now when our governments have only been focused on assisting one another!" There. He had gotten his opinion out as quickly and concisely as possible. Russia couldn't disagree with facts…right?

"Da."

Matthew blinked. He…hadn't been expecting that in all honesty. "Da? Then…you agree?" He perked up at the prospect of a peaceful resolution to this unnecessary conflict.

"Of course." Ivan smiled, leaning back in his chair slightly. "Our governments are very close! And our relations are good. You are correct in those aspects." The man's lips twisted up into a momentary smirk; as if he alone knew the punch line to some cruel joke. Matthew's hope sputtered at the sight. "Rossiya and Kanada's relations are very good…but, Matvey and Ivan's relations are not the same as our country's, da? … Matvey has something Mother Rossiya wants. And Mother Rossiya always gets what she wants~"

"I-Ivan, please see reason –"

The large man stood, leaning over the table in the most formidable way to look down at the smaller Canadian. "Nyet. The Arctic belongs to Rossiya, so I will bring him back with me, da?"

"N-now listen, you hoser!" Matthew summoned the little courage that he harbored, straightening himself so their height was not so drastic, and narrowed his eyes at the frightening northern nation. "We aren't leaving this room until we come to some sort of compromise! Arctic does not just belong to you and I'll make sure that we figure out what's best for him, and his people!" It was their responsibility as older nations: to care and nurture those that could not fend for themselves. Though in the past new nations were taken advantage of under the title of colony; having their lands raped of resources and people forced into labor or war for the sake of their sovereign nation to keep new 'nations' weak enough that they were forced to lean upon their elders for sheer survival. Canada knew this feeling well. Under French and later under British rule he held the physical scars of assisting his 'parents' with their ridiculous European conflicts and the consequences that followed him back to his own soil, as well as nursed the mental wounds from his hungry, ragged people and the bubbling emotions that came along with the relinquishing of control of one's very being. Was it too much to hope that once, just once, an elder nation could provide support and the nurturing that was needed to help a naïve land establish the footing that allows them to stand on their own as a proud, independent country?

It shouldn't be just a hope.

~.~.~

"A-and then what happened?" The boy's plate of food had been long forgotten (not that he had eaten much since it consisted of America's pick of a hamburger and French Fries), and currently he was perched on the edge of his seat in anticipation, eyes wide as he focused all his attention on the animated Briton as the story of ships, cannon fire and raging waves unfolded through his words.

From the way the older nation's eyes glittered in fond remembrance, it was obvious that he was enjoying the opportunity to relay his tale to the curious child. "The masts locked tight! There was no choice but to repel the Frogs as they attempted to seize control over the _Victory_, but those old boys fought like the dickens, even when they were forced to take cover below deck amidst a hail of grenades! Nelson's plan was brilliant…but even with such stratagem, he couldn't escape a French bullet to the shoulder…" Arctic gasped softly in horror, leaning forward even more with expectation. "Just as Nelson lay dying and it seemed that the _Victory_ would surely be taken, suddenly another ship pulled up to the side of the _Redoubtable_ and fired upon its crew! The deck was reduced to splinters, cannons dislodged from their tethers and it was not long before those Frogs were forced to surrender –"

"Oui, oui, and you won, and Nelson was called a 'ero…and so on and so forth." Francis mumbled bitterly, tracing the lip of his wine glass impatiently. "You just 'ad to pick Trafalgar to tell ze boy about…"

Arthur huffed in annoyance, eyebrows furrowed in a glare towards the Frenchman. "Well excuse me for indulging the lad's curiosity! I believe he enjoyed a little piece of history, isn't that right?" He quickly smiled down at Avery and tousled his white locks affectionately. "He's the one who asked anyhow! Who am I to refuse?"

"Ha! Like you would ever refuse to tell a story about ze 'glory days' _Angleterre_!" Francis scoffed before breaking out into a smirk. "I'm sure it's just to compensate for what an old prude you've become in your complacency~"

"Y-you take that back you bloody –"

"Monsieur France…" Avery pulled shyly on the Frenchman's sleeve to get his attention. "You can tell me a story about one of your battles if you want to."

"Awww, _mon ami_, if you truly insist –"

"That's rich! You can't tell the lad a story about battles you've never won~" The Englishman sneered triumphantly.

"Don't be ridiculous! Let me remind you zat Napoleon –"

"Was actually Italian. Yes, I know."

"_Non_! My government bought Corsica in 1969, so he was a French citizen! But eizer way, Napoleon –"

"Was foolish enough to invade Russia? Oh yes, don't worry old chap, I know that too~ He certainly fared well against that brute."

"Angleterre, I 'ave won plenty of battles –"

"Mr Frenchie won something?" America boisterously joined the table, tray stacked full of all sorts of high-sodium, high-sugar and overall high-calorie foods to satisfy him. The man grinned, clapping Francis on the back good-naturedly as he laughed. "Sorry dude, even Google disagrees with you! Oh, oh – I know a totally awesome joke about this! Ahem…How do ya sink an American battleship?"

Normally Arthur would take the high-ground in such a situation, if only to come off as the gentleman that he so claimed to be, but this was a special circumstance. Francis was being ridiculed. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "How?"

"Have the French build it!" America burst into a loud tirade of laughter at his own joke, even managing to extract a chuckle from the Englishman beside him.

France took a generous swig of his wine. "_Pourquoi suis-je toujours la plus faible_?" He mumbled to himself mournfully as he stood and walked off in search of more of his favorite beverage.

Avery watched the men with intrigue as he sat back down. He smiled softly as the laughter slowly turned into another half-joking/half-serious argument between the remaining blondes. He had been scared at first of all the noise and unknown social situations that had never been presented before (not to say that he wasn't still on edge and feeling such anxieties currently)…but maybe with some more exposure he could fit in just like any other nation! "I hope I can be strong just like all of you some day…" He mumbled more to himself than the oblivious men before him. Maybe someday he'd be strong enough to endure a dangerous war, or be able to speak his mind without fear!

Maybe someday…he could be independent?

"Avery"

"Averaĭ"

The boy perked up, turning to see the familiar forms of a tall Russian walking uncomfortably close to a blonde Canadian. Ivan's smile was flawless, but the mock cheerfulness did not penetrate the cold depths of his violet eyes. Those orbs were filled with a primal glint the young nation couldn't begin to understand yet; but others that had seen, and experienced it themselves, recognized the variance. It was the same way that an empire looked upon new territory for which to lay claim upon. It was the deep-rooted need to conquer. Avery hesitated at the sight before running over to his caretaker, burying his face in the midsection of Canada's nicely-pressed suit. "Papa, Arthur told me the greatest story! It was all about the ocean and ships and…papa? Is something wrong?" He looked up in concern when the familiar feeling of Matthew's arms around him in a hug was absent.

Canada smiled down at his little boy sadly, gently petting his hair. "Avery…we need to talk…"

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><p>Translations:<p>

Я отвезу тебя домой. (Russian): I shall bring you home in the near future.

pourquoi suis-je toujours la plus faible? (French): Why am I always the weakest?

Averaĭ (Russian): Avery

**A/N: After weeks of college finals, cosplay stress, and life I actually was able to sit down and write a chapter for this! Forgive me if the style changed a bit (as in the accents of characters, etc.); I simply wanted to see if it was possible to do so in an effective manner, and if it made a difference...I don't quite know. ; Please bear with me.**

**As always, thank you for enduring my writing. *bows***

**Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcomed. I am far from perfect.**


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